


Mandelbrot in Revolt

by moiralicious



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Broken Bones, Dysfunctional Relationships, Existential Dread, F/M, IVs, Injections, Manipulation, Violence, brief flesh eating insect mention, brief mention of suicidal ideation, brief spider mention, mild eye trauma (blood vessel popping), mild iv sedation on an unconscious person, syringes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-24 03:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21092684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moiralicious/pseuds/moiralicious
Summary: Subject Sigma, once internationally lauded astrophysicist Siebren De Kuiper, now dead to the world after what was reported as a tragic and disastrous malfunction in the life support systems aboard the Kuiper space station, was a challenge she had quickly become voraciously intrigued by.





	1. Spaghettification

Moira scanned the dossier on her mobile holopad for the third time that day, clinically worded phrases such as "highly volatile mental state", "multiple security personnel incapacitated" and "mechanics of gravitational anomaly not fully understood" keeping the cogs in her mind turning as she and her escort made their way down the unfamiliar halls of the containment facility. The doctor was Talon's ace in the sleeve when it came to sensitive, difficult cases like these, ones that held astronomical potential but couldn't be resolved by simply throwing money or bullets at the problem. Perhaps she wasn't the most tactful or diplomatic employee on Talon's payroll, however she possessed a deadly combination of tenacity, brilliance and patience that made her uniquely suited for certain challenges that others simply couldn't tackle. Subject Sigma, once internationally lauded astrophysicist Siebren De Kuiper, now dead to the world after what was reported as a tragic and disastrous malfunction in the life support systems aboard the Kuiper space station, was a challenge she had quickly become voraciously intrigued by. 

She was brought to the processing bay for the holding cell, where she swiped her identification under the attendant's scanner, silently noting the armored uniform they wore and the electric pistol in their holster. She had been warned that extra precautions were being taken with regards to the anomalous man and his mysterious abilities. 

"You have a weapon on your person, yes?" The processing attendant questioned, at which Moira indicated her own small, hip-holstered electroshock gun, as well as the small syringe of luminous biotic fluid she had stowed in her breast pocket. 

"Don't let the subject take that gun from you. Keep it holstered until absolutely necessary." 

"Until? Not unless?" Moira asked with a chuckle, oddly spirited for all the danger and mystery that seemed to hang in the atmosphere, the smile on her face betraying a hint of her anticipation. The attendant only nodded soberly at the doctor and unsealed the door, revealing a dimly lit, concrete hallway guarded by more heavily armed personnel, stationed in small recesses in the wall roughly 15 feet up, watching silently as the doctor stalked down the hall in long, echoing strides. She paused at the end of the hall, one door sealing behind her, and another slowly hissing open before her.

The room she entered was divided into holding cell and observation bay by a massive wall of reinforced metallic glass through which the doctor could observe the subject. Two armed guards stood, stoic and gargoyle-like, on either side of a glass door, making her frown with irritation. 

"I was promised a private consultation with Subject Sigma."

"It will be plenty private when you enter, Doctor. Reinforced two way glass." A guard knocked the glass with a gloved knuckle for emphasis. 

"We received specific instructions to remain on the observation bay to prevent security breach and casualties." The other guard elaborated. Moira didn't answer, gazing past the guards and into the cell, realizing with unspoken delight that Subject Sigma was nowhere on the floor of his holding cell. Instead, immediately, she witnessed the proof of the outlandish contents of his dossier she had been hoping for. He was suspended there, curled into himself as tightly as a fetus in the amniotic medium, nearly 15 feet in the air, rotating slowly as though he possessed his own skewed magnetic axis.

"How fascinating..." She murmured as she stepped close to the glass door, gazing at the man that defied the laws of physics, hovering like a dormant creature in an invisible sea. "You will have no reason to interrupt me." She addressed the guards curtly after a long moment, stepping back, allowing them to share a final tentative look before one of them unlocked the door and the other went to the intercom to address the subject. 

"Subject Sigma, the doctor is here to see you." The sound roused the subject slightly, and he twitched, his neck bending at an odd angle, like an anxious animal. Moira strode over the threshold the moment the door was opened, and as it was sealed behind her with a mechanical hiss, a glance over her shoulder confirmed what the guard had said, the wall was an opaque mirror from this side. The air in the room felt thin, and she had to pause only a few feet from the mirrored door, the effects of the gravitational anomaly already affecting her body, making her feel oddly light and giddy as she called out to him in her loud, clear voice.

"Subject Sigma, my name is Doctor O'Deorain. I've been sent to evaluate your health and personally manage your long-term recovery from the effects of your imprisonment. Now, kindly come down from there."

\---

Noise. Endless noise. Static that reverberates through the consciousness like a swarm of insects, devouring self identity, razing humanity, liquifying perception. If perception were a pane of frosted glass through which a human could observe a hazy, easily digestible semblance of true reality, not only would his pane of glass be melted into bubbling silica, it's frame would be in splinters, and the wall it was set in would be bulldozed to rubble, exposing a scope of reality to him that was never meant to be witnessed by any human being, living or dead.

He should be dead. Part of him thought that would be easier. But through it all, a melody called to him. A haunting song that snaked around the essence of his being, coagulating his existence just enough to keep him from dissipating into stardust and the echo of an a terrific scream. The universe would not let him die. It cradled him in the throes of it's song like a child, a wordless symphony that revealed to him the story of reality and unreality alike. It was simply too much, too much noise, too much knowledge, too much perception, too much to hold together, yet he was drawn to it, he followed it's call everywhere it led him. Endless existential spaghettification, coiling his consciousness in impossibly long loops, threading him inexorably through the tapestry of the universe, even as he frayed and came undone at the ends. He saw infinite possibilities, infinite timelines, infinite lives and deaths. He had wept at first, wept for people he knew, for people he had never met, and for himself. But he rarely felt anything as tangible as grief anymore. The life he had lead before all this was just one thread in this universal fabric, one among an incomprehensible number, a single drop in a sea the size of infinity.

Somewhere, far away from his mind and soul, where his physical body floated, another noise struggled to cut through the melody. A human voice, tinny, filtered through electrical components. His body seized as his focus oscillated, struggling to break away from the melody and zero in on the sound. What would be done to his body now? More restraints? More electricity? He wasn't even sure where he was. The space station, languidly orbiting the supermassive black hole at the center of the galaxy? The asylum, tranquilized like livestock and strapped to a slab? Or the place that came after that, after the men in dark suits and the struggle and the sirens and the black helicopter they had transported him in? 

Another voice called to him now, clearer and louder. Ah, yes, the doctor. He was told to expect a doctor. He had grown very sick of doctors in the asylum, he found them tiresome and invasive, like insects that burrowed into the flesh for their own selfish purposes, spiders that cocooned him in industrial strength straps and chemically induced comas until they were ready to sink their fangs in and suck out more information they couldn't possibly hope to understand. She wanted him to come down. Always asking for something. Why couldn't they just _leave him alone_? He wasn't of this world anymore, he had nothing for them except agony. He forced his eyes open, stretching his neck to gaze over his shoulder at the doctor, his expression wide-eyed and unreadable. The two way glass hid nothing from him, they had no idea how much he could perceive, how he could see the armed guards on the other side of the glass without needing to see them, them and their heavy duty electric weapons. He saw the weapon on her own hip, and he snarled, slowly unfurling himself and turning to face her, the fact that he didn't touch the ground only exaggerating his imposing height.

"... My imprisonment?" He said incredulously, an amused smile stretching across his face as he regarded the doctor. She was familiar to him in the ethereal way that everything was, to someone for whom time was a tangled knot of a trillion threads that branched off into endless possibilities, in endless directions. He knew her without having to know her. He knew endless iterations of her. And he very well knew he could kill her before she could ever get a clear shot at him. 

"Oh, my ignorant, foolish doctor." He laughed at the look sprouting on her face, narrow-eyed and indignant. "Freedom, imprisonment... it's all an illusion." A twitch of his hand was all it took to take her body into his grasp. Raising her up effortlessly, hovering her closer to him until her face was inches from his, the doctor's limbs convulsed as she struggled against the effects of the gravitational anomaly, her face going red, then purple as he slowly squeezed the air from her lungs, as easily as a child might squeeze an insect between two fingers. "Do you feel free right now, doctor? I know what you desire. You crave an understanding of me. Of what I know. I will provide you no such thing." He could feel her ribs bend against the force of his gravity, her organs compressing under her bones, so fragile, so breakable. "The only thing I can provide you, intrepid doctor, is a new understanding of _violence_." His grasp tightened, and his grin widened as a blood vessel burst in Moira's eye, coloring the sclera a visceral red to match the stark, heterochromatic crimson of her iris.

Seconds, a mere heartbeat before the life was crushed out of the seizing doctor, the melody called out to him again. Wordless and all-encompassing, it spoke to him in reverberations, in gentle tones that softened his grip on her lungs and made him contemplate the horror of what he was inflicting on her. _Let her live_, it seemed to compel, and he trembled, her body shivering along with his hand, the sound of her gasping greedily for the air she was now allowed to breath melding with the ephemeral song. Let her live. Let her live. Let her live. Dear Lord, what is that melody...

The last thing he did before losing consciousness was a simple gesture, a broad sweep of his hand. The last thing he saw was Doctor O'Deorain's body crashing violently into the two-way glass of the holding cell in it's wake, before she fell several feet and crumpled on the floor. The last thing he felt was his own body hitting the floor heavily, and his eyes drifting closed, as the melody danced approvingly through his mind.

\---

Of all the things she expected from the subject during their first consultation, being called an ignorant fool was low on the list. Her stature remained tall, her hands clasped behind her back as he slowly, dramatically rotated to face her, eyes narrowing at his words as a sneer tugged at his sharp, sallow features. "I assure you, I am, and will continue to be, the only person both willing and capable of managing and implementing the type of recovery regiment you requi-" Before she could finish her sentence, she was cut off by a feeling like a giant's fist clenching around her ribcage, fire blooming in her chest as her lungs and bones protested the crushing pressure. Her fingers twitched towards her electroshock pistol, but her limbs were no longer her own, the gravitational anomaly coiling around her in relentless bondage, like an invisible serpent constricting it's prey. 

She glowered wildly into his emotionless eyes as he spoke, choking and flashing teeth, hovering ever closer to the tall, thin man that was exerting his suffocating power on her. Her heart pounded, and her vision erupted with stars as something popped painfully in her eye. He was tightening. He pressed on her bones like he wanted to kill her.

_ Hold on, hold on, don't die, don't die, fuck, fuck, fuck. _

She struggled to keep her mind from dimming as it agonized for the oxygen he was depriving her of. If she could just force her hand to travel to the holster on her hip, one quick whip and a pull of the trigger is all it would take...

For a brief moment, it looked like a sudden realization dawned on him, and the force lessened enough for her to suck a deep, ragged breath into her lungs. Then, all at once, her body was flung against the glass with a power that made blackness engulf her vision and lighting shoot through her chest. She felt herself hit the floor with a dull thud, and gasped there for a moment, coughing and clutching broken ribs through her shirt. Shaken and snarling, she clenched her jaw through the fiery pain and clawed her way up the side of the glass, coming to stand on unsteady legs just in time to see the door of the holding cell fly open and the armed guards enter, taking aim at the now prostrate subject with electric rifles. She seethed, and summoned all her strength to lunge at the intrepid guards, grasping the length of a rifle with her shaking hands and growling at the armored pair in a ragged voice. 

"_STOP_. You have no idea how much you're jeopardizing, how- how _important_ this is." Still seething from the broken ribs in her chest, she ripped a syringe of luminescent yellow biotic fluid from her shirt pocket, jamming it into her own arm and pressing down on the plunger with a pained twitch of her snarl, before exhaling with deep relief as the fluid spread through her veins, expediting the reparations of her bones and muscles to an exceptional rate. The doctor straightened to her full height, her body a barrier between the guards and the subject, the angry red blotch in her sclera being the last injury to dissipate as she loomed over the two guards, her hand still gripping one of their rifles as her eyes burned into them. "Listen closely. There is a _reason_ I was assigned to this subject, and I will not have my work undermined by ignorant, trigger-happy expendables like yourselves. You will get the _hell_ away from my subject, or _you two_ will become today's only 'casualties'. Do we have an understanding?" The guards lingered for a long moment, sharing a knowing look, as if considering Moira's long-held place in Talon's inner circle, and her not-so-veiled threat. The pair cast one last cautionary glance at the now unconscious form of Subject Sigma, before retreating complacently from the holding cell.

Moira turned as the door sealed behind them, eyes falling to the crumpled body laying unconscious in a heap on the floor. She sighed heavily and rubbed her temple, tongue tutting against her teeth as she shook her head at his splayed out body. She just couldn't help it, it was illogical, it was unbelievable, and a sudden, long, hard laugh erupted from between her lips and rang through the cavernous holding cell. The deep, rich sound bubbled up from low in her belly and rocked her to her core until she doubled over and gasped for air, a wide, hyena-like grin still plastered on her face when she finally straightened up once more. The subject had already proved himself to be infinitely more difficult, more dangerous, and more revolutionary than she had ever anticipated, and it only made her want to seize control of this inexplicable power all the more. She kneeled beside his body, checking the pulse on his throat, and heaved a disbelieving breath as she noted his heart rate was now sitting steadily at a borderline comatose 15 beats per minute. "My, my, what am I going to do with you, Sigma?"

\---

When Sigma awoke, he was laying in his cot in the holding cell, an optical heartbeat monitor strapped to one arm, an intravenous drip of what felt like a mixture of saline and mild sedative hooked into the other, and a thin sheet pulled over his body, up to his chest. No straps, no chemical coma. He blinked blearily and attempted to sit up, but only managed to prop himself up on his elbows, far enough to take note of the fiery haired doctor who seemed to be typing something out on a mobile holopad at a small writing desk. The quickening of the heart rate monitor caught her attention, and she looked over her shoulder, an easy smile gracing her mouth as she rose and walked over to his bedside with her holopad in hand.

"Ah, hello Sigma. How wonderful to see you're awake. Your vital signs were becoming extremely concerning there for a moment, and that's not even mentioning your severe dehydration and malnutrition, or the obvious distress our initial introduction placed on your already strained psychological state. I do apologize for that. This was far from my first choice of locale for our initial consultation, so much tension in the air here." He stared at her blankly, it had been so long since he had been conversed with so flippantly, months, possibly years, though it often felt like multiple eternities. The static still throbbed in his head, the melody that wafted through him a soft undercurrent, while the medication she had him hooked up to was like a bubble making the whole symphony sound like it came from underwater. "These living conditions are deplorable." She continued with a glance around the cell, when it became apparent he was sorely unaccustomed to friendly conversation. 

"Do you have any idea where you are?" He responded only with silence, and a slow shake of his head. "You're in a holding facility in the middle of a Soviet wilderness, about a mile underground. This facility is owned by Talon, the organization that arranged your... transfer, from the institution where you were being illegally detained." Conveniently, she made no mention of the legal status of the facility they were currently inhabiting. "Essentially, you're currently in the middle of fuck-all nowhere." Still wearing that sage smile, she pulled up a chair, sitting close to his bedside. He remembered the image of her body colliding against the mirrored wall of the cell and crumpling like a doll, how the white of her eye exploded with crimson as he tightened his hold on her, the sound her bones made when they cracked on impact. Yet here she was, intact and spirited, with a conspiratorial look in her mismatched eyes. What was she? Was she even real?

"The way Talon sees it, you have two options. You can stay here," She gestured around the spacious yet stark holding cell, most of the room taken up by the medical equipment she had requested be set up before her arrival, otherwise only inhabited by a few basic amenities. "-Doing whatever it is you've been doing so far." She paused, the corners of her smile curling up as she leaned in a notch closer. "Or, you can return with me to Talon headquarters in Rome, and assist me in developing a long-term recovery regiment for you, implemented under my personal supervision. You'll be provided with higher quality living arrangements, personal amenities, and the finest psychological and medical care Talon can buy, curated by yours truly." She sat back in her chair, flitting her eyes back down to her holopad, finishing the last of her report for the consultation. "All I ask in return is your cooperation during the rehabilitation process, of course." Glancing up from her pad, she hovered the stylus over it, locking eyes with Sigma, pausing before she checked off the last box on the report. "So, what do you say, Sigma? Would you like to leave here with me?"

He stared at her for a long moment, the oscillations in his mind not disappearing, but dissipating enough that he understood the offer that was being made. He could stay here and flounder through fractals and visions until the glass finally cracks, and they either shove him down into an even deeper hole in the ground, or worse, put him back in induced stasis and let him drown in the melody, alone and lost, falling forever. Conversely, he could take the doctor's offer, and face whatever plans she had for him. The choice was his. It felt like the first choice he'd had in a long time. And it was an easy one.

"Yes, doctor. I would like that."

She smiled, and with a flick of her stylus, checked off that final box. "In that case, you may feel free to call me Moira."


	2. Interim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consultation Report: Transcript of Preliminary Interview with Subject Sigma  
By Dr. O'Deorain  
_(Personal Copy)_

Consultation Report: Transcript of Preliminary Interview with Subject Sigma  
By Dr. O'Deorain  
_(Personal Copy)_

\- BEGIN TRANSCRIPT -

MO: My name is Moira O'Deorian. I am conducting a preliminary interview with Subject Sigma, date 04/17/2079, time 00:24. The purpose of this interview is to create a general outline for the subject's psychological profile, and to serve as a baseline against which progress of his treatment will be compared. Sigma, can you state for the record that you consent to cooperate with me for the entirety of your long-term rehabilitation regiment?

SS: _(Subject looks at me, does not respond. No obvious emotional response visible, but he appears restless, twitching, eyes darting around the holding cell.)_

MO: Do you understand what I'm saying?

SS: _(Subject takes several seconds to answer) _ Yes. 

MO: Are you feeling quite lucid? 

SS: Yes, it's just... _(Subject pauses for several seconds, appears uncomfortable, presses hands to his eyes.)_ It's difficult to focus.

MO: I need you to answer my question before we can proceed.

SS: Yes. I will cooperate.

MO: Thank you. Do you often have trouble focusing on things around you?

SS: Yes.

MO: Can you elaborate on why?

SS: _(Subject takes long pauses often, seems to be struggling to either understand or answer my questions.)_ It's very loud now. It's been getting louder.

MO: What is getting louder?

SS: _(Appears distracted, does not answer. It is unclear whether he heard me or not.)_

MO: Please answer the question. What has been getting louder?

SS: ... I am not a madman, you must understand that, if I you intend to... rehabilitate me. I don't understand the things that are happening to me, but they are not delusions. And they will be no easier for you to comprehend. Whatever I tell you, no matter how implausible, how ridiculous it may sound, you must believe me, I am not insane.

MO: I know you are not insane. I believe you are much more than that. I also believe you are suffering immensely. That is why your recovery is so important. However, I cannot help you if you cannot at least attempt to explain what is happening to you. So please, go on.

SS: It's... It's a melody. Always, always singing to me, endlessly calling to me, it never stops, I can't remember the last time it didn't...

MO: Do you recognize the music?

SS: I believe... The universe is singing to me. Revealing things to me. Things I longed to understand a lifetime ago. Now I realize there are some things that are not meant to be understood. I once believed the language of reality laid in calculations, algorithms, but I was wrong. It is a beautiful, horrifying melody. _(Subject becomes increasingly agitated during this cryptic explanation.)_

MO: You must attempt to remain calm. What sort of things does this melody reveal to you? 

SS: I see the luminescent threads that hold the universe together, I tug on them, I follow them through endless, dizzying quantum entanglements. Gravity has become like the strings of an incorporeal harp under my fingers, and I am compelled to play along with that melody, until it overtakes me and I feel like I am falling, spiraling, being infinitely consumed. I see time spread out before me, not linearly, but as a fabric, infinite threads woven into each other, each a different possibility, each equally real and unreal. I am everywhere and nowhere all at once. I am the puppet and the master all at once. Like Schrodinger's cat, I am alive, dead, both, and neither. _(Subject appeares distressed. He looks around the room frantically, as though hearing something.)_ You really don't hear it? It's deafening.

MO: I don't hear anything. There's no music playing. Try to focus on me. Tell me when this began. What do you believe was the catalyst?

SS: I devoted my life to my work. I did the calculations so many times, it was supposed to work, it was supposed to be different, it was supposed to be under my control. It wasn't supposed to be this way... _(Subject continues searching for what I assume is the source of this unheard melody.) _

MO: Sigma, look at me. It's very important you focus on me. You must not lose control of yourself. Listen to my voice, you are under my care now, and I need you to answer my questions calmly and fully. _(The subject manages to calm down enough to sit still make eye contact.)_ That's very good. Now explain to me, what exactly were you trying to accomplish through this work of yours?

SS: I... We were going to harness the power of gravity. The power of a black hole. Me and a small team of my colleagues. The field, it was my own invention, the product of decades of studying matrix mechanics and small-scale experimentation in controlled environments. It was supposed to protect us, all of us, it was supposed to be an impenetrable safeguard. But it failed at the critical moment. I was so close, I had to be, it was the only way to contain the gravitational force within the field... Oh, god, those people. We were so far from home, circling the black hole at the center of our galaxy. They died out there, because of my actions. Oh god, what have I done? _(Subject appears to be in extreme emotional distress. Several items in the room begin to tremble as the gravitational anomaly intensifies.)_

MO: You did nothing wrong. The sacrifices we make in the name of discovery are essential for laying the foundations of a stronger world. They are the very building blocks of progress. Not everybody understands that. You must not linger on the past, it will only hold you back. Take a moment to calm yourself before we continue.

SS: No! It was my fault! I was so foolish, I was so blind, it was such a catastrophic failure... I destroyed them. _(Gravitational anomaly strengthens. Sheets begin to rise off subject's body. Upon releasing the stylus of my holopad, it levitates a few inches above my hand. Larger equipment including the optical heart monitor and IV drip begin to shake more violently. Subject is clutching his head with both hands.) _

MO: Sigma. Listen to me, and keep your eyes here. _(Subject fails to respond.)_ Sigma. _(Subject makes strained eye contact after several seconds.)_ You may mourn, if you must. But I will not allow you to call yourself a fool or agonize over things that cannot be changed. You have achieved something revolutionary with your work, something that may change the course of scientific progress for decades- no, centuries to come. But it will all be wasted effort if you cannot stand tall and look towards that future as I do. Are you prepared to do that? Or shall I retract my original report to my superiors and inform them that you will not be returning to Rome with me?

_ \- Redact following before turning in transcript. Keep a copy for personal records. - _

SS: ... Why do you call me that?

MO: Why do I call you what?

SS: Sigma. Subject Sigma. That is not my name.

MO: My superiors do not consider your past or your life before those traumatic events to be of any major consequence. It was easier for them to provide you with an alias, to distinguish you from the man you used to be. They believed it would aid your rehabilitation.

SS: And do you agree with them? That the man I was before is of no consequence? 

MO: ... No. I don't agree with that. But there are protocols to be followed where prying eyes observe me. Talon has been very generous to me, and I do not intend to disregard the restrictions they place upon me, few and simple as they are. Not where I can be observed, anyway.

SS: And where you cannot be observed?

MO: It is difficult to tell when one is or is not being observed.

SS: ...I'd like some of my humanity to be recognized, if we're going to be working in close quarters. I don't believe that is an unreasonable request. Perhaps it would be... more beneficial to my rehabilitation.

MO: What exactly are you asking of me?

SS: Call me by my name. Just once. You must have it on record somewhere in _ dat verdomde apparaat van jou * _. I am so tired of being treated like an experiment. If that is all you see me as, I can assure you, I have no interest in following you anywhere. I would rather suffer alone. I would rather your superiors bury me in a hole a thousand times deeper than this one and leave me to rot. _(I later translated this to mean "That goddamn device of yours". I assume he was referring to my holopad.* )_

MO: ... Very well, Siebren De Kuiper. If it's truly that important to you. Just the once.

\- _End Redaction_ -

SS: _(Subject remains silent for several moments. His emotional state seems to gradually calm, and the gravitational anomaly in the holding cell weakens until gravitational force return to a normal level.)_ ... Help me, doctor. Please. I cannot continue living like this.

MO: That is the reason I am here. And I believe I invited you to call me Moira.

SS: ... Very well, Moira. If it's truly that important to you.

MO: You have still not answered me. It was not an ultimatum, it was a legitimate question. Do you truly believe you are prepared to look to the future?

SS: I... believe I am.

MO: Excellent. Thank you for your cooperation. This has been very illuminating. I believe this is a good place to conclude our interview.

\- END OF TRANSCRIPT -

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure where I’m going with this but expect more chapters forthcoming!


End file.
